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Views From Shattered Glass: Mourning Robin Williams & Depression

Last night, I cried myself to sleep. I’m not ashamed to admit that. I was reading another AWFUL statement from a conservative ninny about Robin Williams, his suicide, and mental illness.

I cried silently.

I let myself mourn Robin Williams passing because like many, he was an old friend to us.

An uncle.

A father.

He was a strong confidante, a reliable shoulder to cry on, a strong set of arms that would carry us during our own dark days torment and upheaval. He was the universe’s big, strong teddy bear that made us laugh.

I don’t remember a life before Robin Williams; I was born in 1980 and he was a part of my life as much as my own family was, yet he seemed to be connected to me closer that my own siblings and, at times, my own parents were.

There was never life before Robin Williams, a man who gave laugh after laugh even if it cost him his own torment. He healed us..me… through his emotional genius.

He healed the sick through his roles.

He healed torn hearts

He healed sadness.

When I had to deal with loneliness so paralytic that I couldn’t muster another suicide attempt, Robin was there.

When my father’s health deteriorated to the extent where now I had to imagine a life without his hearty laughs and affinity for planting flowers, Robin Williams as Mrs. Doubtfire was able to scoop up my flickering heart and cradle it with himself.

When I was raped and was losing my mind, Robin Williams was always there to guide distraught souls like me to somewhere happier, even for a moment.

So, no, I’m not ashamed to admit I cried last night.

I’m not ashamed to answer, “Yes, I’ve been depressed” when Andrew asked about the disease.

I’m not ashamed to say there are days where I can sense joy at the tip of my tongue easier than others. Then there are days that I want to just fade when people close to me say, “Snap out of it. You don’t. Have it that bad.”

Even if they don’t ‘get it’ they are right.

I don’t have it so bad, but Robin??

He had it bad…he had it so bad that he lost hope. The pain…the wear and tear on the soul was too much and our Peter Pan is off in Never Never Land.

I guess a part of me also felt such a weird connection with Robin Williams because he reminded me of my dad. That grizzly beard to his whimsical mannerisms to the fact he buried his pain deep to bring joy to others.

This may sound weird and crazy, but in a way, I lost a living symbol that reminded me of my father.

I lost my dad. Again.

Again, feel free to call me bat-shit crazy, but Robin Williams represented all the goodness of humanity that sometimes we don’t see.

So, no, I’m not ashamed to let tears flow and hope Mork from Ork receives all the peace in the world.

For all the Rush’s, Matt Walsh’s, and religious zealots proclaiming that Williams will go to hell or that depression/suicide is choice or that Williams committed suicide “for attention” (as an aside, how dumb of a statement is that!?!?!), please shut the entire fuck up. These are not good opinions, hell, they lack empathy, compassion, and love from folks who subscribe to religion(s) that one should utilize love at all costs.

I just want to thank Robin Williams, even if it is too late in this realm.

I want to thank him for using his deepest and darkest pain to create joy, peace, and stillness for many, many of us poor souls writing in unseen pain.

I thank him for creating magic that made it all hurt a little less.

I thank him for living through his deep-seeded pain to relieve others’ pain and upon that realization and despite the current narrative in right-wing media that Williams’ was selfish for taking his own life…I beg to differ.

He was completely unselfish.

He lived with THIS for so long whilst making movie after movie…taking his pain and transposing it into comedy to relieve our own.

He lived with THIS for decades just so he could hear his friends laugh.

Then the moment came when it all was too much to bear, so excuse me if I don’t support your “Robin Williams was a selfish pig who made a choice” because I, for one, make a choice today of my own.

I choose not to be a judgmental hag.

I choose to show empathy.

I choose to let go of my religious opinions, and mourn for a man who touched hearts.

I choose to try to understand what he was going through to not have another option.

I choose to love and not hate.

I choose to believe the Peter Pan that touched my life.

I choose to believe in the passion that Popeye brought to my chaotic life.

I choose to believe in the magic that the Genie touched my life.

I choose to believe the laughs he brought into my heart, the critical thinking he propelled my way, and I choose to believe in the magic that he was.

I think a friend, I will call her, Comfort, said it best with this:

“And so it has begun…Newscasters calling Williams a coward. The small-minded hatemonger’s accusing him of leaving his family with the “weight of guilt and pain”, comparing his death to others deaths and saying one was more valuable than the other, calling him demon possessed, shaming and blaming persons with depression, and on and on ad nauseam. Williams death has hit me hard, just because of how it happened and the fact that few knew he was battling depression outside his circle, or at least few focused on that. I get it. I wish I didn’t, but I do. I get the “no way out of this” hopelessness he must have felt. Suicide isn’t the end of sadness, it is the end of hope. It is the overwhelming and final “no way out”.
So, let us be kind, patient, and sympathetic with each other, not judgmental, nor hateful, nor arrogant that we have all the answers. We do not. Let us not look at these situations as an outsider with all the answers, but as a caring friend.”

Robin Williams wasn’t just an actor or comedian…he was life.

He was the kindness, the joy, the positive in humanity.

He was humanity.

I don’t remember a time before Robin Williams; he was an institution.

And now that institution has been taken by the ferocity from out of nowhere.